Figure 8
by Lonely Looney
Summary: A girl who has needed an android for years, but as Data had no emotions, she knew she didn't stand a chance. But sometimes she felt a blue butterfly batting her wings on her ear to tell her she was not alone in this farce... So she wouldn't give up.


**Hey guys! Whoever is gonna read that, that fic was written for _fun_ two years ago and I found it just now! If it's crappy and way too inaccurate, I'm so sorry. I love Star Trek intensely but I'm terrible with details. And just so you know, somethings are slightly altered. **

**Plus, English is NOT my first language. If it's horrible, try not to flame me.**

 **Thank you!**

 **PS: It's an one-shot!**

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Mr. Data was so focused staring at his drink that he took a fright when he was nearly blinded by a flash.

"That's a keeper, Mr. Data!" said a perky, bubblegum pink voice.

It was Ensign Julienne Rose. Data remembered her all right. That one was fond of taking pictures and of sweet things. Very bright, straightforward, smart and dedicated. Her curly, blonde, waist-length hair she wore loose, but still according to protocol, and her eyes were deep dark blue. She sat next to him, uninvited, to show the photo that had just come out of her Polaroid.

"How come you're here all alone?" she asked.

"I am attempting to concentrate and write some poetry that comes from the depths of my soul." He replied, way too practical for someone who wanted to write something _"that came from the depths of his soul."_

"I could help you," she volunteered.

Strangely, she seemed fond of him, very much so. He couldn't help but noticing that.

"I'd like that very much." He said, to which she beamed, seemed to nearly glow.

"You don't have either pen or paper." She observed.

"I do not need them."

"Oh."

She started fidgeting, nervous. Then, she had… _an idea_.

"Mr. Data…"

"Yes?" he said, all of a sudden seeming aware of her again.

"Would you mind… Coming to my quarters… _for a poetry jam session?!"_ the last bit came out a little high-pitched. He stared at her, surprised.

"Why, I… This does not sound appropriate, Ensign. Besides, such term can only be applied to music."

That hurt her and she felt in her eyes the sting of tears.

"Okay, I just thought you could help me with my writing…" she said, humiliated.

But maybe he could see how _hurt_ she was and tried to make amends….

"Well, perhaps it is not at all a bad idea this… _'jam session'_ , Ensign. What time do you prefer?"

Her heart was _leaping_. _"Don't ruin it, don't ruin it, don't ruin it"_ she thought.

"Aren't you free now? How about in half an hour? And please, call me _Julienne_. I'd like us to be friends, if that's okay with you."

He smiled. Or tried to. _'Oh God, he smiled. And very handsomely so.'_

"Very well, Ensign Julienne."

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Half an hour was half an hour to Data. So, half an hour and not a second more, there he was, ringing on Ensign Rose's door.

"Coming!" she answered.

But he actually heard _"come in!"_ and strolled into the room.

And there she was… caught off guard, wrapped in a pink towel, hair dripping wet, puzzled expression.

"Mr. Data!" she exclaimed, holding on to the towel. If Data could, he would actually have _blushed_ (which was strange, since he didn't have emotions, right?)

"I am—I am _terribly_ sorry for barging in like this, Ensign. I thought—I—Excuse me."

Before he gave another step, she grabbed him by the arm.

"But you're not leaving, are you? Please, stay. We're past the formalities by now."

"Indeed we are." He said, and she was under the impression he was… _ogling_ her. She flushed, flattered.

"Look, Ensign…" he combed his fingers through his hair, such a _human_ gesture!, "This is hardly appropriate. I can come back another time. Or… perhaps not."

"Why ever not, Mr. Data? I want you to stay. _I want you._ "

She had blurted the words before she could help herself.

He gave a sharp intake of breath. And he didn't even need to breathe. Only for the purpose of internal thermal regulation.

"And you want me too, don't you?" she approached him, less than carefully, throwing protocol to the winds. She held him with each arm by his neck, rubbing against him… And what a _surprise_ she felt in his pants… A _great, welcome surprise_.

"Ensign…" he _wanted_ to stop her, grabbing her hair none too gently, but her hungry mouth was already crushing his, her tongue delving into it. The little control Data had to try and stop her was completely erased by this very action. He ripped her pink towel and wanted nothing more than plunge into her.

"Take me, Data…" she whispered, licking his earlobe. "I can't take it anymore."

She wanted to rip his Lieutenant uniform to shreds, but he managed to get rid of it by the time they got to her bed. But Data wasn't one to ignore foreplay. He kissed her, savagely, making her even hungrier and started to get down, and down, staring at her with a naughty smile…

When she realized his intentions and was about to protest, it was already too late. He was tasting her, like she was the most exquisite wine. She meant when she thought she had never and _would_ _never_ feel such a 'words-could-not-describe' sensation. She gripped the bed sheets to refrain from screaming further. Those loud moans and groans _definitely_ couldn't belong to her!

He left her with ripples all over her body, like electric shock waves. When he kissed her again, the taste wasn't exactly sweet, but it was _different_. Then, looking deep into her dazed eyes, he thrust into her and this time, she stifled a loud scream.

"Are you okay, darling?" he asked, moving slowly.

"Never been better." She tried not to cry, so she wouldn't spoil the best moment of her life. She pushed him further into her and they started to move faster, creating their own poetry. She dug her nails into his scalp, his back, screaming his name, frantic.

When she was about to have another shock of intense pleasure, he turned her face to look at him. He wanted to see that most fascinating moment. She finally cried his name in release and he also moaned hers.

He didn't have emotions, so it got pretty awkward when she started crying in his arms.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, very concerned. "Did I hurt you?"

"No! No…" she said, trying to regain her composure and drying her tears to look at him. "It's just that… it was the best day of my life. Thank you."

He smiled at her, again, and picked a stray curl to put it behind her ear.

"There is nothing to thank me for. That meant a lot to me. I hope… it meant something to you as well."

She wanted to cry, again. What a fountain she had become.

"It meant the world to me. Do you have a girlfriend?"

She felt silly, utterly _dumb_ for her approach of the subject.

" _Of course not!_ Otherwise I would not have made love to you."

She seemed somewhat… _disappointed_ with his answer and he saw that.

"Have I said something wrong?"

"Well, what am I to you now? Please, be honest."

He moved his head a fraction of an inch and replied:

"I would like to consider you my girlfriend, from now on. But it is not going to be easy. For you, I mean."

"It would be an honor. I've had a crush on you for ages."

He held her closer. She started kissing him again and the poetry jam session re-started.


End file.
